Keeping the Peace

by Hannah Hooton

  ‘Jack avoiding me, do you think?’ she said. ‘Who are the lucky ones to be kept in H Block?’

  ‘By the look on your face, it should be Jack.’

  She laughed and waved him away.

  ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just picking up on Jack’s stress, is all. I don’t know how tomorrow is going to pan out.’

  Finn shrugged.

  ‘It’ll be good craic, I’m sure. Busy, but fun so long as the weather stays dry.’ His eyes softened at her anxious expression. ‘You’ll enjoy it, I promise. Just serve them enough jars and they’ll all be flamin’ by two o’clock and then they won’t care if a couple of things go wrong.’

  ‘Oh, God. Don’t say that. Enough has gone wrong already.’

  Finn’s laughing green eyes wavered from Pippa to the wall behind her.

  ‘That’s good.’

  Pippa turned in her seat to look where he was motioning. Hazyvale Dawn, which she’d brought in with her earlier that morning, proudly adorned the wall.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Finn looked at her in surprise.

  ‘You did that? Jaysus, what are you doing here sittin’ behind a desk? You should be in a studio wearing a beret and smock, not here.’

  ‘I wish. Maybe someday though,’ she said, a trace of wistfulness escaping.

  ‘What did himself think of it?’

  Pippa giggled.

  ‘Jack hasn’t noticed yet. Well, I think he noticed something earlier, but he couldn’t figure out what.’

  ‘That’s men for you, I’m afraid. I think it’s grand. Will you be doing any more? It’s brightened this place up, to be sure.’

  Pippa thought of Morning Stables, but decided she would keep that picture for herself. The unintended inclusion of Peace Offering in it made it somehow more personal.

  ‘I might do. The countryside around here is so beautiful. It’s just finding the time.’

  ‘Aye. Speaking of which,’ he said, rolling up sleeve and looking at his watch. ‘I’ve got to get on. Right ye be, Pippa.’

  The clock on the opposite wall struck five o’clock and Pippa leaned back in her chair and stretched. Usually, around this time she would be packing up and thinking of dinner and what to tackle next in the cottage, but today those thoughts were far from her mind. At the forefront was the booklet, which she was still struggling with.

  She groaned, knowing she would need Jack’s help in order to complete it. Last year’s version had a brief but fact-filled form write-up for each horse and she didn’t have the faintest idea how to update them. Jack had promised to be back from the races by five, but there was still no sign of him or the horse lorry. Realising there wasn’t much she could do until he returned, she dug through her handbag for her cigarettes and shrugging on her coat, headed for the door.

  Outside, it was cold and already dark. By the glow of the electric light, she watched the stable staff finishing up their day. She needed a break, but for once, her cigarette tasted disgusting. She doused it in a puddle before throwing it in a nearby bin and retreating inside the office again.

  She was rewording the introduction on the first page ten minutes later when Jack walked in. They looked at each other for a moment, an awkward silence filling the room.

  ‘You’re still here,’ he said at last.

  ‘No rest for the wicked,’ she replied, attempting a smile. She needed Jack on her side if they had any chance of getting this booklet finished in time.

  ‘How is the booklet looking?’

  ‘Come see for yourself.’ She pushed her chair back from her desk to make room for him. He walked around the reception unit and rested his hands on the desk, clicking on the different pages.

  Pippa waited for his verdict, her hands intertwining.

  ‘I-I need your help with the form write-ups,’ she said, her voice quiet and humble.

  Jack straightened up and nodded.

  ‘Okay. Give me a minute.’ He went into his office, reappearing a minute later, minus his jacket and wheeling his black leather chair to join Pippa in front of her computer.

  Pippa edged sideways to make room.

  ‘Right,’ he said, once settled. ‘Where shall we start?’

  ‘With Box One would probably be best.’

  Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. Pippa noticed the dark circles beneath them. His hair was messy, making him look even more tired.

  ‘Okay. Box One: Spurwing Island.’ Jack picked up the old booklet and flicked through it. ‘Lightly raced over hurdles. Has done well over fences, but doesn’t like the ground too soft.’

  Pippa bent over her keyboard, typing furiously to keep up.

  ‘Am I going to fast?’

  ‘No, you’re all right.’ She smiled at his concern. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Er, doesn’t like the ground too soft. Finished third in his last start in two-mile novice chase at Huntingdon. Ought to improve with step up in trip. Box Two: Dexter. Easy win on debut over hurdles in September after winning a bumper at Newbury last season. Stays well. Could be high class hurdler. One to follow...’

  Three quarters of an hour later, Pippa stopped typing and flexed her fingers. Her eyelids felt lead-coated and her head hurt from staring at the computer screen all day.

  Jack broke off mid-sentence.

  ‘Do you want a break?’

  ‘Would you mind?’ she said, her eyes pleading.

  ‘No. Go have a cigarette or something if you want to.’

  ‘I’ll make us a drink.’

  She returned a couple of minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee, placing one in front of Jack.

  ‘I’m allowed coffee? What have I done to deserve such a treat?’ he asked, raising a wry eyebrow.

  The fact that for the past forty-five minutes he had been generally calm and courteous towards her had been enough for her to forgive him, at least temporarily, for being so rude.

  ‘Figured you might need it. You look tired.’

  ‘So do you,’ he said, taking a noisy sip and looking over the rim at her.

  ‘A bit. Today’s been pretty hectic with everything going on.’

  ‘You’ll sleep well.’ A faint smile parted his lips.

  ‘Hopefully when I’m in my bed and not before,’ she replied with a laugh. ‘All I need is to fall asleep at the wheel. I could probably do with some caffeine tablets or something, but until then there’s always this.’ She held up her coffee, but paused when she saw Jack’s face fall.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ he said, his tone thick with dread. ‘Tablets. I meant to stop off and pick them up on the way home. What’s the time? Fuck, they’re going to be closed soon.’

  ‘What? Jack?’ Pippa put down her mug and watched, speechless, as Jack hurtled out of his chair, making it crash against the back wall, and rushed into his office. ‘What are you talking about, Jack?’ she called after him. ‘What tablets? Can’t it wait ’til tomorrow?’

  Jack appeared again, buttoning up his jacket and striding towards the exit.

  ‘No. I’ve already forgotten twice. He’s run out of his medication. Sorry, Pippa. I’ll be back in half an hour at the latest. I’ve got to get his pills.’

  ‘Whose?’ Pippa cried, roused to her feet by the urgency in Jack’s voice.

  ‘Berkeley’s!’ he yelled over his shoulder as he ran out into the yard.

  Pippa sat back down with a bump.

  ‘The dog?’ she said, feeling unimpressed.

  Pippa sat in silence, finishing her coffee and listening to the whirr of the fan on her computer. She watched the hands on the clock face fall past six then slowly start to rise towards the hour. She picked up her empty mug and Jack’s untouched one and deposited them in the kitchenette’s sink.

  She was just fashioning an extra page of a lovely photo of the Gallops for the back of the booklet when Jack appeared at the doorway.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he muttered.

  Startled, Pippa leapt in her chair.

  ‘Jesus, you frightened me,’ she said, p
lacing a hand on her chest.

  ‘Sorry.’ A mouth-watering smell wafted over to Pippa and she peered over the reception unit at the plastic bag he held. He lifted it onto the counter and began to unearth little plastic and foil cartons. ‘Thought you might be hungry,’ he mumbled, not meeting her eye.

  ‘You bought us Chinese?’ she said, a smile splitting her face.

  Jack looked embarrassed and he busied himself placing the containers on the desk.

  ‘We might be here for a while yet.’

  ‘I’ll go get plates,’ Pippa grinned and hurried back to the kitchenette.

  They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, interspersed by Pippa’s giggles as she tried to master noodles with the complimentary chopsticks. A loop of sauce sashayed off one evasive noodle’s tail and splattered her screen.

  ‘Oops,’ she said, stealing a glance at Jack as she wiped it clean.

  Jack, perched on the desk, looked unmoved.

  ‘Ollie and Tash were always wary of taking me out for dinner in public places,’ she said.

  ‘Tash your best friend?’ Jack asked, trying to cut a spring roll in half with his chopsticks.

  ‘Yeah. She’s the one helping us with the printing of this damned thing.’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘And confidante?’ He seemed to have lost interest in his food as he waited for Pippa to answer.

  Pippa hesitated, struck by the almost hurt look in his eyes.

  ‘Um, yes, I guess so. She’s my best friend.’

  ‘Any your only ally,’ Jack provided.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Sometimes I shout because it’s the only way I can be heard,’ he went on, dropping his gaze and poking at his food. ‘And if I come across as miserable to you then it might be because that way, if something goes wrong, it doesn’t hit you in the gut as hard as if you went around thinking the world was full of roses.’

  Pippa’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped.

  ‘Oh, God. The email...’ Her voice trailed off when Jack nodded. ‘How?’

  ‘You sent it to me by mistake.’

  Pippa’s heart dropped in mortification.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jack. I meant to send it to Tash. Really, I am so sorry,’ she cried. ‘It meant nothing, honest. I was just having a really bad day and needed to offload it onto someone, you know? I didn’t mean all the things I said.’

  Jack shrugged.

  ‘Maybe it was for the best,’ he said, popping a pork ball into his mouth and raising his eyebrows at her.

  Pippa looked at him, wide-eyed and confused.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Maybe it’s something I needed to hear –’

  ‘But in that way? I’m sorry. It was hurtful and mean.’

  ‘Maybe it was the only way I would have listened. On the other hand, it’s good to know you aren’t always the chirpy bunny. Your language is terrible by the way and what the hell does “Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs” mean?’ Jack delved through his noodles in search of another pork ball and to her disbelief, Pippa saw a smile start to tug at his lips.

  ‘It’s a typing exercise thing.’ She paused, still uncertain. ‘You mean you’re okay?’

  ‘I didn’t go and cut myself some rope, no. I’ve grown a pretty thick skin. Having said that, it was a bit unnerving when I opened my emails in the morning and came across that. Then you arrived, smiling with a cup of that herbal concoction. It was a bit too Jekyll and Hyde for my liking.’ His eyes twinkled as he watched Pippa’s expression.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ she whispered.

  ‘Forget it. Eat your food before it gets cold. And then we’ve got to finish this up,’ he said, gesturing to the screen.

  Pippa did as she was told. She tried to balance some soggy rice onto her chopsticks, her fingers shaking.

  ‘Oh, fuck!’ she blurted as the chopsticks clicked apart and the rice went flying. She bit her lips together to stop herself laughing as Jack peered down his front at the offending food now attached to his white shirt in a sticky brown glob. Without a word, he scooped it up with his forefinger and held it up to her.

  ‘Would you like this back?’ he said with a deadpan expression.

  Pippa’s resolve failed and she snorted.

  ‘Um, no, thank you,’ she giggled, trying – but failing – to mirror his expression. He ears burned and flush crept up her neck.

  Jack raised an eyebrow, smiled once and popped his finger in his mouth.

  ‘And I’m the crazed bastard?’ he said. ‘I can see why your friends don’t like to take you out.’

  ‘Chirpy bunny?’ Pippa retorted.

  Jack covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he laughed.

  A slow mocking rap on the reception door stopped them both. Melissa, her blonde hair wound in a stylish French roll above the fur lining of her coat, stood in the doorway.

  ‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’

  Jack choked on a rice grain.

  ‘Melissa. Come in. There’s no party,’ he said, putting his plate down with a clatter and heaving himself off the desk. ‘We were just – um, just...’ He gestured to the cartons.

  Pippa struggled to raise the smile only moments ago she had been unable to contain. Who was this woman who had Jack scurrying around like a naughty boy every time she appeared?

  ‘Hello, Pippa. Working late?’ Melissa said, raising an eyebrow, while at the same time offering her cheek for Jack’s hurried kiss.

  Pippa found the smile she had reserved for difficult customers at the restaurant.

  ‘Hello. Just sorting things out for the Open Day tomorrow.’

  ‘Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?’

  ‘Just some last minute things,’ Jack said with a vague wave of his hand. ‘Couldn’t be helped.’

  ‘I see.’ Melissa walked over to the reception unit and peered over, avoiding the rows of half empty takeaway boxes, to look at Pippa’s computer screen.

  Pippa tried hard not to glare at her and only just managed to stop herself from saying, ‘It’s porn, Melissa. Yes, Jack and I were eating Chinese and looking at porn on the internet.’

  ‘Were we meant to be going out tonight, Mel?’ Jack said, scratching his head.

  She gave him a thin smile, her red lipstick catching the gloss of the overhead light.

  ‘No. I thought I would drop by on one the off chance of a drink. I can’t bear to go home. Daddy’s having some dinner party for his French and Italian peers.’

  ‘Well, we’ve still got a good couple of hours’ work to finish off here,’ Jack said doubtfully. ‘You’re welcome to stay though.’

  Pippa gave a silent groan.

  Melissa put her leather-gloved hand over Jack’s arm and squeezed it.

  ‘No. I can see you’re both very busy,’ she said, acknowledging the food cartons. ‘So I’ll leave you to it. Ta-ra, Pippa. Don’t work my Jack too hard now.’ She laughed and turned for the door. ‘Walk me back to my car, Jack?’

  Jack did as he was asked.

  As they both disappeared round the corner, Pippa gave a sigh of relief so vast it could have revived a drowning whale.

  When Jack returned, all their previous humour was now blatantly absent.

  ‘Let’s crack on, shall we?’ he said, his manner brusque. With brisk movements, he stacked the plastic containers on top of one another and dropped them into the carrier bag and removed his plate from the desk. He sat back down without another word and sighed.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Pippa said, her tone gentle.

  ‘I’m fine. Come on. If we hurry, we might get these done in an hour. What box are we on now?’

  ‘Eighty-Two,’ she said quietly.

  ‘We’ve go to put in all the bloody horses for sale after that as well. Right. Eighty-Two: Think On Your Feet. God,’ he muttered, reading the horse’s form in the last booklet. ‘This has got be the most inaptly named horse ever. Okay, here we go. Has run with promise, but has taken a knock to his confid
ence after a couple of falls last year. Switched back to hurdles, but disappointed on return at Exeter.’

  ‘What does this mean in his last runs: 65RFU? Sixth, fifth, Royal Fuck Up?’ Pippa asked as she typed.

  Jack chuckled and shook his head.

  ‘R means he refused, F means he fell, U means he unseated his rider. He can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Rhys says he updates his will each time he rides this horse. Eighty-Three...’

  Pippa waited for him to continue then glanced at him when he didn’t.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  ‘Eighty-Three: Peace Offering. Um, a sound jumper and stayer. Did not perform as well as hoped last year, but...’

  ‘But?’

  ‘...but has shown progress at home indicating potential for longer distance handicaps later this season.’

  ‘And is a live Grand National contender?’ Pippa prompted with a grin.

  ‘Not yet, Pippa,’ Jack replied, his voice grave.

  ‘I know, sorry. I know you don’t think he’s good enough, but –’ How could she convince him that having a dream wasn’t a bad thing? A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She was suddenly too tired to press the matter. ‘Never mind. Eighty-Four?’

  Barely able to lift her fingers across the keyboard, Pippa clicked the pointer on Send and watched the email of attachments vanish from the outbox on her screen. With a groan, she folded her arms in front of her and let her head drop.

  ‘I could sleep right now, right here.’

  ‘Not advisable,’ Jack said, standing up and wheeling his chair back into the office, colliding with the doorframe as he went. ‘With the heater off, it’s like an igloo in here.’

  ‘You know, if an igloo is properly insulated, it’s not actually that cold,’ she said, still collapsed on her arms.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said, re-emerging. ‘I, however, am going home.’

  Pippa raised her head and scraped her curls out of her eyes, suddenly curious.

  ‘Where is home, Jack?’

  ‘On the other side of the hill past the Gallops. If you look closely, you can just see one of the outside lights on the brow, but the main house is on the other side. Are you going to be okay getting back?’